by Samuel Thews
“All right,” Phinnegan said with a heavy sigh. The troll stopped combing her hair and looked at him with eager eyes, a wolfish grin upon her lips.
“So you agree, then?”
Phinnegan could only nod. Though she was indeed beautiful, he cringed at the thought of being the captive of a troll. Who knew if the men were as normal as she. He would have to remember to ask that question. If he made it away from this predicament, anyway.
“Excellent,” she cooed, clapping her hands together in her excitement. “You will be such an adorable little pet. Shall we begin?
“Yes, of course. Shall we go first or will you?”
“The honor goes to my guests, of course,” she said with a sly smile. “And I do expect you to invoke all of the formalities, of course.”
“Of…of, course. Yes, the formalities.” Crimson looked to Periwinkle, obviously oblivious to what this fair troll was talking about.
“Dear chap don’t tell me you don’t know the formalities?” Periwinkle asked with a hint of mockery. “All of your years in this world?”
“I don’t know that I’ve ever been asked,” Crimson replied, his tone betraying that he felt hurt by his lack of knowledge.
“Very well then,” Periwinkle said, stepping forward to place himself in front of the troll. “I shall begin.”
He stood for a moment in thought, either recalling a riddle or reminding himself of the formalities. At length he smiled broadly and bowed to the troll atop the rock. When he spoke at length, it was in verse.
“Riddle me this, riddle me that
I’ve a riddle for you, my fine trollish lass
Under this bridge and through yonder door
This game I propose; will you let me pass?”
The troll clapped her hands as he finished the rhyme. She wasted not a moment in response.
“Riddle me this, riddle me that
To such a request I cannot say nay
That human I demand as my winning price
Should you win this game, then pass, you may.”
Just as she finished her rhyme, Phinnegan felt a chill in the air that he had not noticed before. The others must have felt it as well for the two Faë exchanged worried looks and the bogle glared at the troll.
“Why do I suddenly feel cold?” Crimson asked, looking from Periwinkle to the troll. She smiled.
“This area has been marked. No one can leave until the game is finished. You never can be too careful these days. It’s why I always insist on the formalities.”
So much for running into the sunlight.
CHAPTER 13
RIDDLES
“Of course, of course,” Periwinkle stammered, but he recovered quickly and bowed once more to the troll.
“We understand completely. Now if I may?”
“Yes, please, do begin.”
Periwinkle cleared his throat once more and shared one last look with Crimson before launching into his riddle.
“What’s in a forest, but not in the trees?
What’s part of an elbow, but not of a knee?
What comes in a month, but not in a week?
What’s found in a mountain, but not in its peak?”
The brief pause that followed Periwinkle’s riddle was shattered by the laughter of the troll. Her right hand rested on her breast, which heaved as she laughed. Phinnegan frowned. He had figured it out before Periwinkle had finished, and he assumed that she had as well.
“Silly Faë! Such a simple riddle that this young human already knows the answer. Did you truly think to fool me with something so juvenile?” She grinned as she waited for Periwinkle to answer, but he stood in silence, his cheeks flushing. At length she shrugged.
“Very well, then. The answer to your riddle is the letter ‘o’. Correct?”
Periwinkle nodded slowly. The troll chuckled to herself as she shook her head.
“Will they all be this easy? It seems almost unfair. Almost.” She flashed a wicked grin in Phinnegan’s direction that made him squirm. He did not know the rules of this game, but guessed that the troll would now pose a riddle to Periwinkle. He hoped that riddle would be as simple.
“Your riddle?” Periwinkle asked, his voice quiet. She waved dismissively with one hand while the other stroked her neck as she thought.
“Half a moment.” After another half a minute or so, she snapped her fingers and Phinnegan saw the same beautiful smile return to her lips. He was beginning to hate that smile.
“I have one for you my purple-haired friend. Are you ready?” Periwinkle nodded that he indeed was. The troll did not waste a moment.
“Move I do not, but yet turn everything around;
A thing you have left behind, in me it can be found;
Some ordinary things, with me are made absurd;
I always speak the truth, but never say a word.
What am I?”
Much to his dismay, Phinnegan found this riddle to be much more difficult. He did not know how he had known the first riddle posed by Periwinkle so easily, but he was quite confused by this second riddle. He looked to Periwinkle and saw that he, too, was quite perplexed. His eyes darted this way and that and Phinnegan thought that he looked quite scared.
What does he have to be scared about? I’m the one that will have to go stay with the troll!
More than a few minutes passed, and still Periwinkle made no answer. He paced to and fro in front of the troll, who sat with hands clasped in her lap, and a smile that would have been sweet, if one did not know her to be a troll. Phinnegan’s stomach became uneasy as the moments passed. He wondered how much longer Periwinkle would be given to guess.
A sudden gasp from Crimson signaled that he had guessed the answer. Phinnegan sighed, thankful that someone knew the answer. When Crimson opened his mouth to speak, Phinnegan was certain that they were saved.
But Crimson said nothing, for his mouth worked silently and no sound came forth.
When he realized he could not speak, Crimson began gesturing wildly, pointing at his throat. Periwinkle thought it was a poor joke.
“Come on, then. What is it?”
But still Crimson moved his lips but made not a sound.
It was then that Phinnegan noticed the troll and saw that her smile had deepened. She stood from her perch atop the rock and walked over to Crimson. When she spoke, her voice was full of mock sympathy.
“What’s the matter my dear Faë? What’s that? Ah, I see. You have the answer to my riddle, is that it?” Crimson only glared.
Then, to Phinnegan’s surprise he noticed a thin, leathery tail caressing Crimson’s cheek. His eyes grew wide and he followed the curve of the tail just far enough to see it disappear under the hem of the troll’s dress. Perhaps she was not as attractive as he had originally thought.
“I see that you have indeed guessed the answer. But of course, as you know, the proper forms do not allow for anyone but the person who was asked the riddle to answer. Thus, I am afraid, you’ll just have to hold your tongue.”
“Well that’s hardly fair!” Phinnegan shouted, before he could stop himself with a hand clamping over his mouth. The troll turned, her now revealed tail thrashing about slowly as if in amusement.
“Fair? My child, you will soon see that much is not fair here. Nor I doubt is much fair in your world either. Rules are rules, after-all.” She turned her attention back to Periwinkle, whose earlier apparent relief had now vanished as he realized that he was quite on the spot. He resumed his pacing, intentionally ignoring the eyes of the troll. When they had remained thus for what seemed like several minutes, the troll spoke.
“I do believe your time is up. Have you an answer?” Phinnegan felt her gaze as she flicked her eyes between him and Periwinkle.
“One moment, one moment,” Periwinkle said, exasperation plain in his voice. He strode to the edge of the river bank and stared across to the other side. When he shook his head and looked down, Phinnegan felt his heart sink.
But just then th
e Faë’s shoulders straightened and he took a keen interest in the water before him. He crouched down and stared. When he jumped up and spun around, a mirthful grin streaked across his face.
“My lady! Such a difficult riddle. But I have spied the answer to it only just here, in the river’s edge.”
She cocked an eyebrow and her smiled faded.
“Have you now?”
“Indeed I have,” the purple-haired Faë said with a laugh and a wink in the direction of the relieved Crimson. “The answer, of course, is a mirror.”
The answer now spoken, Phinnegan went over the words of the riddle in his mind and saw just how they fit. And now of course, the riddle seemed entirely obvious.
“Brilliant,” he said, which drew a laugh from each of the Faë.
“Glad to see that you can speak again, brother!” Periwinkle said as he joined the red-haired Faë in front of the troll. While she was not angry, Phinnegan could read the disappointment clearly upon her face. Her nose in the air, she dipped her chin precipitously towards Periwinkle.
“The answer, as you have correctly guessed, is indeed a mirror. All even after the first pass, we are.” Recovering her forgotten grace, she returned to the rock and sat down again.
“Who is next? How about the human?”
Phinnegan had not realized that he, too, would have to come up with a riddle that would challenge this troll. In a glance, Crimson must have seen this fact for he quickly stepped forward and bowed to the troll.
“Certainly the lady would do me the honor of hearing my riddle next?”
Her smile threatened to fade, but stood its ground.
“I suppose that would be fine, yes.”
“Shall I observe the forms?”
“There is no need,” the troll said, waving her hand dismissively. She pointed in the direction of Periwinkle. “His invocation of the forms was all that was needed to seal this place. One riddle is all that is required of you.”
Crimson bowed slightly at the waist before proceeding on with his riddle.
“A house without windows, one door but no lock,
A thousand rooms there are, but no room for a clock.
Many visitors come and go, but with no mat to wipe their feet;
Inside they hoard a golden treasure, for you and I, a treat.”
This time, the beautiful troll did not laugh dismissively and shake her head. Instead her brows furrowed and her eyes narrowed. She scrunched her nose and stroked her lithe neck with a slender hand. At least this time, she had to think.
Phinnegan too turned the riddle over and over in his head, trying to think of what house had so many rooms but so few doors. A golden treasure inside? He wondered if it could be a bank vault. He had never seen one, but had heard about them and read about them. It made some sense to him. A golden treasure; a thousand rooms could be individual boxes for each customer’s money. No windows, one door…but no. It could not be a bank vault. Phinnegan was quite sure that most bank customers would want the vault where their money was kept to have at least one lock.
Phinnegan glanced to Periwinkle, who smiled a small smile. When he winked, Phinnegan knew that he already knew the answer. Still, the troll did not stir. Now with her chin cupped in her hand, she stared listlessly ahead. Phinnegan thought she looked weary, but guessed that she was probably only thinking. Several minutes passed in silence before Crimson cleared his throat.
“Ahem, dear lady, have you guessed the answer to my riddle?” Crimson could barely conceal the note of excitement in his voice. The troll flicked her gaze to his and regarded him coolly.
“A few more moments, I beg.”
Phinnegan saw in the slight clenching of Crimson’s jaw that more time was the last thing that he wanted to give, but in all fairness, Periwinkle had been given more than ample time to answer her riddle. He nodded his acquiescence.
Phinnegan thought further, going through things in his mind that fit each of the different limitations of the riddle. He came up with no answer that matched all of them, nor usually even more than one. He did think of egg for the last, but obviously an egg has no windows, doors, rooms, or anything of the sort. But none could deny the golden treasure inside.
He looked to the troll, who had not moved in the moments that had passed since she asked for more time. As he regarded her face, he thought for a moment that it might not be too terrible to be stranded with her in this strange place. But he could not guess where she would take him and what his fate would be. He was thankful that for the moment it seemed he wouldn’t find out. She must be out of time by now.
But when a smile cracked her lips, Phinnegan felt his stomach flip.
“Quite an ingenious riddle, friend Faë. Perhaps a bit unfair in that I have certainly seen a beehive with more than one ‘door’. Have you not?” Crimson swallowed slowly and the hope that had been upon his face vanished in an instant. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and more than a bit scratchy.
“Indeed, I probably have.”
The troll laughed and her beautiful smile returned. Behind, her tail flicked quickly, almost like the wagging of a dog.
“Still it was quite a good riddle. I thought it rather worthy of our little game; much unlike that of your friend there,” she said, nodding in the direction of Periwinkle, who barely suppressed a scowl. Crimson mumbled a word of thanks.
“Now then,” she said, clapping her hands together. “It is my turn to ask a riddle again, I believe?” Crimson nodded and answered that it was indeed. Instead of breaking immediately into her riddle, she thought for a few moments.
“Aha! Try your tricky little mind at this, Faë.”
“Screaming, soaring
Seeking sky;
Flowers of fire, flying high.
Thunder from powder,
Color from salt,
An ancient art doth their masters exalt.”
Crimson frowned for a moment before stepping out from beneath the edge of the bridge just enough to cast his eyes to the heavens. He stood this way some time, and young Phinnegan could guess no reason why, save that perhaps he was trying to imagine what could seek the sky. A bird, a cloud? But they weren’t made of fire, of course. He wondered if it could be the sun or the stars, but they could hardly be said to scream.
Phinnegan, too, crept to where he could look up into the darkening sky. How long had they been here? They had left no later than late morning, and now it appeared as if dusk approached. The air was cool as it blew across the river that coursed along beside them, and it reminded Phinnegan of late spring nights by the lake near his home. He thought back to the last time he had been there. It had been a birthday party for the city’s mayor. There had been all manner of foods, dancing, desserts, games and to top it all off, a miraculous show of fireworks.
Fireworks.
Phinnegan could not believe it had taken him so long to guess. Flowers of fire? How simple. He smirked and a small laugh escaped his lips.
“It seems our little friend has the answer. Tell me that you do as well, brother,” Periwinkle said with a slight smile as he spoke to his fellow Faë.
“I believe that I do,” Crimson murmured as he turned back to face the troll.
“Fairly simple, really. The answer is fireworks.”
This time the troll did not seem as taken aback. Whether it was that lengthy time taken by Periwinkle had served to raise her hopes or something else, Phinnegan could not be sure. But as her eyes left the red-haired Faë and moved to meet his, he couldn’t help but feel that she did not mind because now it was down to him. And he felt keenly at a disadvantage.
“Well, it was not that difficult after all I suppose. What else could ‘flowers of fire’ in the sky be, anyway, right?” She smiled and beckoned for Phinnegan to approach her.
“I’ll just have to make sure I can come up with a more difficult one for our little friend here. I am sure that he has a tough one for me, don’t you sweetie?”
Phinnegan looked to Periwinkle for help, but h
e only spread his hands in front of him and shrugged. Phinnegan got the message. He was on his own, one on one with this beautiful woman, who was in fact, a troll. He rose slowly from his place near the riverbank and shuffled closer to the troll. When he passed Periwinkle, the Faë whispered into his ear.
“Chin up, mate. At least your fate is in your own hands, eh? Just come up with a good one and all will be fine.”
Crimson nodded slightly as Phinnegan passed him by, and then he stood alone in front of the troll. She smiled broadly and rose from her place atop the rock to step forward until only a foot or two separated the two. She lifted her hands and put them on his shoulders.
“My dear little boy,” she said, her voice full of concern. “You are trembling! Certainly it is not as bad as that? Have you not come up with a riddle to ask me?”
Phinnegan struggled to meet her gaze and instead let his head fall, his chin sinking to his chest. What could he do? He had thought of no riddle that he could ask that would have any chance of stumping this troll. He could only shake his head.
“There, there,” she tut-tutted. “I suppose I can bend the rules this once and go out of turn. How would that be?”
Her voice was calm and soothing, and Phinnegan thought that this was a reasonable idea. What did he have to lose? The worst that could happen is that nothing would come to his mind, and as nothing was where he stood now, there would be little change. He nodded in agreement and the troll cooed with delight.
“Splendid! Of course, it might put a bit more pressure on you were you to guess incorrectly. But I am sure you will manage.”
Phinnegan had not given that aspect much thought, but she was, of course, right. But he had little time to dwell on this possible mistake for the troll stepped back to seat herself on the rock and began to rattle off yet another riddle.
“My home is not silent, but I am not loud;
Together we move, though I in his shroud.
I owe him my life, in he I was spawned;